


Royals

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli makes sure that Kíli knows he’s more than just a spare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royals

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Someone calls Kili a 'spare' as he's not the crown prince and heir. Fili hears about it and is indignant and furious on his behalf; Kili tries to shrug it off, even though it did hurt. Fili sneaks them into the throne room one night, seats Kili on the King's seat, kneels before him and calls him Prince and King before sucking him off. Bonus for Kili being flustered at the titles Fili gives him and denies himself King, but Fili says that Kili is 'king of him' or something along those lines.” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23796948#t23796948).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Usually when Fíli wakes Kíli up, it’s to kiss him and nuzzle into him and breathe hot against his neck, rut into him under the covers and moan his name. But tonight, Fíli keeps his robe wrapped tight around his body, and he gently pulls Kíli from the bed, murmuring quietly, “ _Come with me._ ”

Kíli would follow Fíli absolutely anywhere. But he’s tired and he still yawns, rubbing at his eyes as he slips out from beneath the covers, cinching his own robe. Fíli’s fingers slide through his hair, cupping the back of his head. He’s given a chaste, musky kiss. Even though Fíli’s mouth tastes stale, Kíli leans into it, like he always does when he gets the tantalizing scratch of his brother’s beard against his own. 

Fíli pulls away too soon and runs his hand down to knot in Kíli’s. Their fingers intertwine, locking together naturally. Then Fíli is drawing Kíli from the room, bidding him forward like a haunting beacon. Even in the middle of the night, with only a low-burning candle to light his way, Kíli goes where he’s taken. 

The corridor is empty when they slither into it, the vast halls of Erebor hushed and huge, the torches far and few between. Fíli pulls Kíli along it, and Kíli asks, “Where are we going?”

“To put you in the throne where you belong,” Fíli says simply. He looks over his shoulder to frown, then focuses on the way forward again, while Kíli sighs and shakes his head. 

He shrugs his shoulders and lies, “It’s alright.” He wants to forget the incident that he knows is driving Fíli forward. They overheard two guards today calling Kíli a _spare_ —a useless extension that’s no heir, no crown prince, as long as Fíli lives. It wouldn’t matter to Kíli one bit, falling into his brother’s shadow—he _loves_ Fíli, and he knows that Fíli will make an excellent king. But it still hurts to have their subjects think so little of him, and he knows those two guards couldn’t have been the only ones to think it. 

Fíli squeezes his hand, understanding. Kíli doesn’t have to say a word. Fíli knows him, and Fíli stops to kiss him for it, pressing a chaste, tender peck to his cheek that makes him shiver. Fíli’s thick fingers push a few sleep-slicked strands out of his face and trace the stubble of his jaw, and Fíli murmurs, “Come.”

The way to the throne room is simple enough. They’re close to it, and the room itself isn’t guarded, at least not from their entrance, as it’s so deep in the heart of their mountain. The towering walls echo with their quiet steps as they ascend the narrow walkways, coming to the throne that rises high in the center. The giant statues of their ancestors line the cavern, staring down at them with sightless eyes. Kíli can’t keep his own off his brother. It’s unnecessary, this whole thing, but he rarely says no to Fíli’s schemes, just like Fíli rarely says no to his.

And then they’re at the throne. There is no seat so grand in all of Middle Earth, and for all the many years it’s seen, it’s still a commanding, powerful force that always takes a bit of Kíli’s breath away. Thorin always looks so perfect on it, made larger through all his furs and coats and armour, imposing to match. Kíli’s always known he’s too small for it, but Fíli brings him to the edge of the seat all the same. 

Fíli digs his hands into Kíli’s hips and lifts Kíli into the air, Kíli grabbing for Fíli’s shoulders and trying not to fall. He’s placed gently back in the throne, settled neatly on the edge, and he mumbles, “Fíli...”

“You _are_ a prince,” Fíli insists, his fingers still digging into Kíli’s flesh through his robes. Fíli has to come between Kíli’s legs to fit so close, but he always fits snuggly there. Kíli shakes his head, feeling silly.

“I’m not, really. I’ll never be king...”

“You’re my king,” Fíli hisses fiercely. While Kíli’s cheeks stain pink, Fíli lowers to the stone floor, kneeling between Kíli’s spread thighs. “You’re my ruler, my sun, my whole _world._ ” Kíli bites his lip, his hands palming his legs nervously, held back from fisting in Fíli’s golden hair. “There is no worthier king anywhere.”

Kíli opens his mouth to protest, but his words die when Fíli starts pushing the hem of his robe up his legs. Fíli parts it too easily, splitting open the v to spread the two halves over Kíli’s lap. He tugs with one hand at the top and uses the other to slip inside, just beneath Kíli’s belt. His fingers brush tantalizingly over Kíli’s balls, then dance along the base of Kíli’s cock, eager finger pads scratching through the dark curls. Fíli wraps his fingers skillfully around Kíli’s length and guides it out of his robes, letting it jut up in the low torchlight of Erebor’s heart.

“You’re _beautiful_ ,” Fíli purrs. Kíli is already half-hard in his hand, because it’s difficult for Kíli not to stiffen immediately when his brother slips into his bed at night, even when it’s only to tug him away to other places. They’ve had each other in so many spots around their home, and he knew that, at the very least, they would have _some_ connection tonight. They can’t sneak out without kissing each other, touching at least a little bit. Fíli goes farther and pushes his face into Kíli’s crotch, his beard a soft padding to the hard jut of his chin against Kíli’s sensitive balls. Fíli’s cheek rubs along Kíli’s shaft, Fíli’s breath hot against him. “There is no one more so. In a way, it is good that you aren’t completely in the spotlight, lest Erebor be overwhelmed by every dwarf in the land scrabbling for a mere glimpse at Erebor’s handsome prince...”

“You’re handsome,” Kíli breathes, his voice raspier than he means it. _So_ handsome. And yet, Fíli’s all _his._ He’s always known himself to be lucky.

“You’re more beautiful than I am,” Fíli murmurs, before licking a wet trail down Kíli’s underside. Any protest Kíli might make dies into a whimper as Fíli kisses the head of his cock, spreads soft lips around it and licks into the crown peaking through the foreskin. 

When Fíli pulls back, Kíli whines, his hips bucking forward to stab his cock into his brother’s cheek. Fíli grins wickedly and says, clear and strong, “You’ll always be my lord, Kíli. I bow to you. I kneel at your feet. You’re my _king_.” And then he pushes forward all at once, his mouth opening wide. 

He swallows Kíli down. Kíli gasps instantly, his hands shooting to Fíli’s smooth hair, but he doesn’t at all stop Fíli’s descent. Fíli engulfs the whole tip of Kíli’s cock at once and slips down without stopping, sliding Kíli’s length across his flattened tongue. The walls of his mouth are a familiar delight, hot and wet and tight around Kíli’s girth, dilating as Fíli adjusts to take it all. He takes Kíli right down his throat, his hands leaping to pin down Kíli’s thighs before Kíli tries to buck forward. Kíli tosses his head back against the throne, his voice breaking off. The feeling of his brother’s mouth around him is always more than he can bear. 

Yet Fíli takes him anyway. Fíli nuzzles right into his base, inhaling the musk of his crotch and mouthing around him. Kíli runs shaking hands through his hair, pets it back and loops his fingers around Fíli’s braids—decorations he weaved in himself. He has to struggle to keep his eyes open and keep his head down. But it’s worth it to see the wondrous smile that stretches around Fíli’s lips, matching the light in his eyes. 

He sucks as he pulls away, slipping back down the length to leave it glistening with spit, veined and darker for it, now completely engorged. Kíli has to bite his lip not to scream.

Fíli is _perfect_. Fíli pushes back down, pulls off, slams in again and takes Kíli in a hard, fast rhythm, relentless more out of excitement than dominance—Fíli sucks him enthusiastically, like he’s waited all day for this and couldn’t imagine anything better. Kíli’s tempted to drape over Fíli’s back and lick his ass or twist around and suck his cock, but that would shatter the game. Kíli’s never thought of himself as king, but being _Fíli’s_ king is another matter. He gratefully takes his brother’s tribute, humbled by the bliss of it. Fíli absolutely _worships_ Kíli’s cock, just as he worships _Kíli_ in the light of day.

And all Kíli can do is whine and keen and moan himself hoarse, his hips trembling in Fíli’s hands and his fingers tight in Fíli’s hair. Fíli sucks and sucks until he’s almost sore, especially from the fierce bobbing up and down and the sheer look of his dick sliding in and out of Fíli’s wet lips. The noises are sheer sin, and every time Fíli gulps and swallows around him, Kíli _squirms_. Kíli’s never had such an amazing blow job in his life. 

When the end creeps up on him, the heat taking over his flesh, Kíli breaks into a steady moan of, “ _Fíli_ ,” repeated over and over again, until he’s screaming it and bucking right out of Fíli’s hands, slamming up into Fíli’s face. His cock explodes against the back of Fíli’s throat, his seed spilling all over the drag of Fíli’s tongue. He doesn’t want to let go, and he holds Fíli down, feeling the luscious squeeze of Fíli’s mouth struggling around him. But Fíli swallows all of it, just like they always do. Fíli takes load after load, until he’s just sucking on Kíli’s raw dick, and Kíli’s writhing in a heady delight, dizzy and spent. The best of it is when Fíli moans himself, gasping around Kíli’s cock, and Kíli knows he’s coming, too.

Finally, Kíli loosens his grip on Fíli’s hair. Shuddering with the fade of his orgasm, Fíli slips off. There’s a lewd popping noise, and he runs his tongue over his lips, grinning mischievously. He purrs, “Your seed tastes delicious, Your Highness. I’m honoured to have it in me.”

Kíli almost laughs. Even more so, he almost cries. It doesn’t seem to matter how little other dwarves value him when Fíli looks at him so adoringly, and he knows that the crown prince will always be _his_.

He tugs limply at Fíli’s hair. Fíli obeys the silent command, climbing up to push into the throne, sliding Kíli to the back of it to make room for their knees to tangle with one another. Fíli kisses his cheek, his forehead, his nose, then his lips. He murmurs, “I love you.”

Kíli doesn’t have to say anything. They both know.

But he hugs Fíli fiercely anyway and promises, “I love you _so_ much.”


End file.
